Day 2: Footprints

The eyes reset, staive greet, a chuckle is mine, not yours to greet. You know the working, you know it well, you know your circumference, is a living hell, yet you tilt your eyes, with entrances sowed kind, not a corridor of mine, to your will cemented divine.

Shelter the continued eases crop detect, I will weave a working, in this night, sight felt, and shape the eyes to a woe with ease, a shadow of a footprint, I will tilt till your eyes blackened filth knees.